


Sepia

by bluebluewater



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Badly edited, Frisk is Reader, descriptions of violence, i got those Frisk Feels(tm), ive been holding onto this for awhile, rated T because it contains really heavy stuff and im Unsure, reader POV, uhh sad stuff, weird narration style
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 18:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebluewater/pseuds/bluebluewater
Summary: se·pi·aˈsēpēə/adjectiveadjective: sepia1.of a reddish-brown color."old sepia photographs"





	Sepia

sepia

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

you remember when your grandmother taught you to catch fireflies in the fields outside her house. together you would walk barefoot in cold grass, waiting for the last of the sun to dip below the horizon. you always brought some of her extra canning jars along to catch the bugs in, some grass and sticks shoved inside to make their stay a little more comfortable, you insisted. you poked holes in the top so the bugs could breath.

you had been warned against shaking the jars to agitate the bugs, so you didn’t. your grandmother always told you that if you thought something was nice or looked pretty, you should leave it alone. don’t pick flowers. sure, it was nice to give your to people on occasion, but everything had the chance to grow and flourish. after you were done playing with the fireflies you would always open the jars and let them go.

you remember listening to grandma telling you stories of your grandpa. you loved to help her cook in the kitchen. you would measure out flour and water, mix the batter, following her instructions dutifully. as you worked, she would tell you odd stories, often about her deceased husband. apparently he had been quite the explorer.

your favorite story, one you made her tell often, was when they visited the docks at the edge of the town they had lived in, a long long time ago. it was very windy, so windy her nice sunhat he had bought her blew right off her head and into the water. they bought lots of penny candy from a small shop. feeling audacious, they decided to steal a boat that evening. your grandparents had no idea how to control a boat, but they managed, and took it in laps around the large lake, laughing as salty water pelted their faces. they spent that night in a holding cell until his parents came to bail them out.

you absolutely adored her descriptions of that small little town, with it’s water soaked dock. you asked her if she would take you to visit sometime. she promised she would.

you remember when your grandmother died.

there was a small funeral hosted by a friend of hers, one of the few left alive by time. you were invited. everyone else brought flowers but you brought a canning jar full of grass and bugs. when it was time, you released them into the dark sky. you cried a lot that day.

 

with no relatives close enough, at least, none who were willing to take you in, you were finally sent to an orphanage. you didn’t like it there at all. most of the other kids were mean, calling you names, pulling your hair, taking your stuff. the people that ran the orphanage were nice enough, but had no time for you when you woke up crying in the middle of the night, scared of the shadows in your room or the monster under your bed.

no one would comfort you, so eventually, you learned to suck it up and lay in bed quietly, your eyes shut tight, the covers pulled up over your head. the monster still spoke to you in confusing whispers in the middle of the night, when everyone else was asleep. from outside the covers, he told you about the mountain. mt. ebott, he called it. there were monsters trapped underneath that wanted to be freed. when he begged you to help, you would frantically shake your head and clamp your hands over your ears. when you lifted your hands, he would be gone until the next night, requesting the same thing.

‘the monsters were not bad people,’ he would say in his jumbled words. ‘they did not deserve to be trapped down there. they were lost and afraid. they needed help. you needed to fall. you needed to fall. you had to fall. down the mountain to save them. you had to fall.’

you put your hands over your ears and shut your eyes tightly. he left.

the next day, you got off at your bus stop and slowly made your way back to the orphanage. you could see the mountain. it wasn’t that far off from town. when people started to look weirdly at you, you realized you had stopped walking to watch the mountain.

 

you fell.

 

your head hurt. your arms were all scraped up and tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping onto the golden flowers you had landed on. your school backpack had gotten lost somewhere in the fall, and while you felt a deep mourning for it, no matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t find it. the band-aid that had been put on your chin by your caretakers felt sticky with your tears.

the flowers thinned as you crunched over small rocks, climbing down into another small clearing. through the diminishing sunlight that filtered through the hole you had no hopes of climbing up to, you could make out one, solitary flower. the flower introduced himself as flowey. flowey the flower. his name made you giggle and he grinned at you, before offering to teach you some rules for living down here. you would definitely not be living in a hole - you could find another way up - but you nodded anyway.

he pulled your heart, your - SOUL - he corrected, from your body.

he wasn’t so nice anymore.

toriel came to save you. she was soft and nice. as she knelt down to your height and wiped your wet face dry, you immediately felt better. all the scrapes and bruises you had accumulated had faded away. she smiled as you gently took her large paw. your hand could fit in the palm of hers. she lead you away.

 

you were desperate for a mom. so toriel became your new mom. you dragged around a stick you found, drawing paths in the dirt when you got bored. the monster that had resided underneath your old bed was right. monsters were nice. some of them. others were scared. they lashed out at you. some of the time you ran. other times you waited until the monsters stopped. overtime you got yellow, shiny rocks. you liked them, and kept them in your pockets.

you met a ghost. their name was napstablook and they seemed a little sad. you remembered that whenever you were sad, your grandma would rub your back and say comforting things to you. you couldn’t exactly touch them, but you echoed to them that they were trying their best, and that you loved them no matter what. gradually, they stopped crying and made themself a hat and asked you if you liked it.

you loved it.

 

mom was a very lovely person. she liked to bake lots of pies for you and teach you all sorts of interesting facts. she made sure that your bed was comfortable every night when she came to tuck you in. you were allowed to explore wherever you wished – as long as it wasn’t the staircase. mom didn’t like it when you went near the stairs, and instead prompted you to play another game.

there was only so many times you could walk the length of the ruins and play with the froggits though. you got curious and asked mom how to leave the ruins to play outside. she told you to stay put.

mom was a very sad person. she had lost a lot of people in her life. she had lost a lot of children. she was starting to scare you. mom told you to prove to her that you would be strong enough to protect yourself outside. the dim hallway lit up with fire.

you couldn’t run away. you wanted to stay here, you loved mom. he wouldn’t let you stay here. he returned to you at night, whispering the same things.

‘it’s time. they didn’t do anything to deserve this. you had to free them.’

to do that, you had to get past mom.

 

she hugged your and told you not to come back.


End file.
